“Stop talking back to me,” I snapped, done with his shit. Yes, I’d gone out of my way to prod him into a never-ending parade of outbursts, but I was also finished listening to him. “Stop now. Get your belongings and I’ll walk you out.”
“I was going to do it. You can’t fire me over this!” He shot to his feet, shoulders heaving. I’d never met someone so ready to fight.Why is he this way?He’d started out furious—I hadn’t done that.
“I’m trying to be nice.”
“I can do it. I’ll do it.” Panic had his voice, which was actually a nice medium timber when he wasn’t whining or yelling, climbing higher.
Closing my eyes, I tried to find that iota of myself that had cared when I’d seen that I’d broken him. I opened my eyes and focused on the glistening tear tracks that hadn’t dried from his skin yet. “Get your things, now.”
“I’ll do it, I said I would,” he whispered desperately before scuttling back toward the paperwork in the corner. He hit the floor with his knees, and my control snapped. I stalked over, grabbing his coat from a hook on the wall on my way to him, and hunkered down at his side.
He stared at me, chest rising and falling too fast. I’d noticed once or twice that his eyes were so brown they were nearly black, but my brain misfired as I stared into the improbable color and got lost trying to find where his pupil stopped and his iris started. He blinked and ducked his head, tugging a random sheet of paper toward himself.
“I’m not firing you, but you’re done tonight.”
He eyed me. “And I won’t be… in trouble, somehow, for not having finished?”
Twisted delight had me sucking in a deep breath. He seemed so worried about a trap. I’d managed to destroy his confidence in almost no time at all, and while it had been fun, my conscience was beginning to prickle. Not in a thousand years would I have thought he’d stay here if his mental health was suffering. I’d figured he would flounce out of the deputy mayor’s office to complain to his parents that working was too hard, and they’d let him move on to easier things.
His stomach let out a loud gurgle, and I shook my head. “Did you stop for lunch?”
He shrugged. Glancing around, I saw his coffee cup near the spot where he’d been working all afternoon. That’s all I’d seen him with today. “Up.”
I stood. He glared but turned and allowed me to help him get his coat on when I made no attempt to hand it off to him. When my gloved fingers accidentally brushed his neck, he flinched. Yeah, I’d made him hate me—I’d done that on purpose—so why was I unhappy at the way he spun and stared at me with his large, accusing eyes.
“Go home, Maxwell.”
I watched while he finished gathering his things and then left with his shoulders hunched like a man defeated.
2
Maxwell Kalinski
Ichewed on my nails, a horrible habit Mom always scolded me for, but I couldn’t help it. The house looked so foreboding to me, a reminder that I was about to walk into questions about my new job that I neither wanted nor could answer. The whole family was excited I was working directly under Deputy Mayor Elwood, at least, they were as enthusiastic for an accomplishment of mine as they ever had been, but they had no ideahowI’d gotten there.
Dad had raved about my job at city hall to his friends, and I hadn’t missed theI thought he’d amount to nothingtone in his voice. Unlike my perfect older brothers and sister, I’d taken too long to finish my degree and a large amount of time to charm my way into a more permanent job, and I was nothing like a Kalinski should be.
I’d tried so fucking hard. Then, I’d broken, snapped like the strings on the Newton’s cradle Dad had kept in his office when I was a kid. I’d played with it too much and he’d yelled at me when it was ruined. It hadn’t been expensive, but he’d been angry at me for weeks, telling me children didn’t play with adults’ possessions. He was always furious at me about something, and this was the only time I remembered him being proud. If only he knew what I actually did for Mr. Elwood….
I dropped my head and stared at the brown-brick Georgian mansion with its black shutters and large white pillars that seemed welcoming, but really weren’t. Inside was cold, devoid of anything that resembled a family home. Mom had always liked bare minimum and pale colors; the walls only held a few family photos that she could show off if she had someone important over. Dad had his navy painted office with a few of his hunting prizes mounted on the walls, along with the shotgun he used to kill them. I cringed at the thought. I hated hunting—it was cruel.
The door to the mansion opened, and my sister popped her head out, dark eyebrows dancing high on her forehead.
“Are you coming in or not?” Brea asked. The rest of her appeared, and she crossed her arms. Her black floral dress fluttered with a burst of wind that whistled through the trees surrounding the house. We lived a little way out of town for the privacy; I never understood it, you’d think my parents would want to be closer to the action in New Gothenburg.
“You look immaculate, as usual,” I said instead of answering her question. I strode forward while squaring my shoulders, ready for whatever manly display Dad or my brothers would put on to show me who was boss. I’d driven myself home after Jean-Paul had nearly dragged me to the car and didn’t so much as say goodbye before he got into his own vehicle and left. I wondered what he’d say if he saw this house, though. He’d probably hate it. That made sense. He and Mr. Elwood didn’t come from the kind of family I had, and they despised people who were born into money, even if it was what got Mr. Elwood and Mayor Midberry where they were now. Mom had donated to their campaign, so they could have at least been thankful.
Brea did a spin, her dress fanning out like she was Marilyn Monroe. “Why thank you”—she grinned, laying on a Southern accent—“good sir.” She cackled, and I rolled my eyes. This was the side she never showed our parents. “Come inside, it’s fucking freezing.”
“Southern women don’t cuss like that.” I shot her a smirk and let my gaze fall to the ground, where the remnants of last night’s snowfall had stuck in the grass.
“Good thing we’re only half Southern. Get your cute little ass in here or I’ll whoop it.” Now she sounded exactly like Mom. I let her nearly drag me into the entrance hall and was immediately blinded by the white. Everything had the same paleness, from the stairs to the walls and tiled floor. The only splash of color came from the black diamonds that broke up the tiles, and the horrible leopard-print rug Mom had placed on the wooden stairs.
The urge to run back outside the front door had me taking a step toward it, but Brea grabbed my wrist like she knew what I was contemplating. Of course she knew, because she’d felt the same way I had since we were born. The two youngest of the Kalinski family, Brea was only a year older than me, and was the closest relative I had. Unlike me, though, she knew how to pretend to fit in. I’d always be the outsider, the one who tried too hard.
“Brea, is that your brother?” Mom’s thick South Carolinian accent breezed out to us, and I stared at Brea pleadingly. I should have stayed at the office because at least then I would have had a reason not to come home. With a sigh, I shrugged out of my coat and then hung it on the rack, but there was barely any room with everyone else’s outerwear already piled on it.
Brea put a steadying hand on my shoulder and dragged me through the entrance hall toward the dining room, where I knew both my brothers, sisters-in-law, nephews, nieces, Dad, and Mom would be waiting. It was Monday night, so of course they’d all be here. Mom had everyone over for dinner the same night each week. The sound of childish giggles made me tense, but even though my youngest nephew was five, he knew how to be a Kalinski—elegant and diplomatic, not act like a child.
